


Birth of a Future Queen

by InBetweens



Series: Daensa Week 2020 [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daensa Week, Day Four: Family, F/F, Mentions of past maternal death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:42:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22689442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InBetweens/pseuds/InBetweens
Summary: As the days slowly grow closer to the birth of her first child Daenerys begins to have nightmares about all that could go wrong during child birth.
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: Daensa Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632157
Comments: 6
Kudos: 124





	Birth of a Future Queen

**Author's Note:**

> Second entry into Daensa Week. For Day Four: Family  
> Hope you enjoy it! All mistakes are mine.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Screams echoed and bounced off the dark stone in Dragonstone. The agony of a woman’s body tearing itself apart to bring new life into the world was heavy in the air. The stench of blood thick as servants did their best to stem the flow. The womanly screams slowly grew distant until they were fully silenced. 

The air fizzled with static as lightning struck in quick succession. Over and over again. The waves crashed and smashed against the rocks of Dragonstone. The waters churning as the winds howled and Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains was born. 

Daenerys had nightmares of the day she was born. Of walking down the halls of Dragonstone, listening to the echoing cries of her long departed mother as she struggled and strained in her effort to give birth to her. Daenerys dreamed of standing at her mother’s bedside, watching, unable to do more than stare, as the woman she never met died in an effort to bring her into the world. To ensure her safety. 

It was a nightmare that kept Daenerys up most nights, unable to return to sleep once she’d had it. She woke in a panic, her heart racing and body drenched in sweat, the sheets beneath her wet and stuck to her damp skin. Even when she was in the North, surrounded by the cold bitterness of Winter and snow, her body still released puffs of heat as her pores wept with an agony the Queen did not allow her eyes to suffer from. No tears were shed. Not for a long time now. Though her heart ached for the woman who had left this realm to ensure she was brought into it, it had been their destiny.    
  
Daenerys would not change her past. Not a single moment of it, for fear that if she did she would lose what she had come to cherish: her present.

The Iron Throne was hers. The Seven Kingdoms were hers. The dead were no longer returning to life. There was peace. And just around the corner was the return of Spring. and soon Summer. 

With Summer was the promise of new life, birth. The birth of her first child. The child that would one day rule over Westeros. That would hold her name and continue on the Targaryen line. A child that would be born in no time at all. The swell of a stomach having grown and expanded over the last nine months as the babe within was nourished, cherished, and warmly expected. 

Which Daenerys supposed was why most nights she woke in a panic, distant echoes of her mother’s cries during childbirth haunting her. Following her into the waking world. The cries of her mother, older and in failing health, under undo stress and emotional turmoil were soon followed by the cries of Lyanna Stark, young, fit, healthy. And yet, still, she too fell into the hands of death to bring to the realm a babe, a son. Daenerys fretted, in silence. Her frustrations and fears only showing themselves in the way she could not sleep through the night. The dark circles that began to creep in under her eyes. The way her fingers tapped incessantly upon the table during the visits with the Maesters and the medicine women and the midwives. The way she snapped at those on her small council. How she could not focus. As the cries from her nightmares began to follow her. They chased her around the Red Keep or the halls of Winterfell or Dragonstone castle even when she was awake.    
  
Not even visiting Drogon helped ease the tensions and fear she felt. 

It ate at her. Filled her every pore with heaviness that she could not shake, could not wash away. Even as she took long drawn out baths to try and wash it away. The fear was still there. Ever present, only growing as time passed and they were all another day closer to the birth of the next Targaryen. 

“Did you draw the short straw?” Daenerys asked as she stood overlooking the Blackwater from the cliffside. Drogon lounged behind her, resting. He barely raised his head up at the newcomer.    
  
They had come to Dragonstone in preparation for the birth. Finding it fitting that Daenerys had been born on this island, in the halls of the castle looming behind her, so it was only right that her heir would be born here as well. 

“I suppose you might say I did, aye.” 

Daenerys did not turn to the man that came to stand beside her. He too just looked out over the water in silence. They listened to the gulls screech as they soared over the water and the waves lapped at the jagged black rockside of the island. Silence was not something uncommon between them. It was something Daenerys could appreciate about the man. He was not unwilling to remain silent when there was no need to voice the obvious. 

“It looks clear.” 

Daenerys sighed as she looked out at the water and the sky. He was right. The sky was clear. The water was calm. At least it was, for now. There was always the chance that the Gods would find that same fury they did the night Daenerys had been born and begin to assault the earth around them. 

“It does.”

Silence fell between them once again. But there wasn’t peace with this silence. It was weighed down by all they were not saying, all that they knew had to be spoken aloud, but neither was willing to voice. 

They both dreamed the same dreams. They shared the same nightmares. The same fate. They were both born from mothers who died to bring them into being. They both knew what would be lost here, could be lost in these halls. They knew the screams that could echo and bounce around them, no matter the closed doors and all the minds and capable hands of the smartest and most capable Maesters and priestesses. If the Old or New Gods wished for there to be blood and death so there might be life, then there would be. And neither one of them was powerful enough to stop that, which was all the worse, because they both knew it. 

He looked at her, and she didn’t need to see his eyes to know what was in them. 

“I wish I knew what to say, Dani.” The deep plea in his voice, the way he wanted her to know he truly wished he had something to say that would make this less scary for her, less fearsome, was clear. 

It made her heart twist painfully in her chest as her hands clenched tightly into fists at her sides. Her will strong, she would not look at him. She remained steadfast in her staring out at the water. She could not allow herself to feel this. It was suffocating. It was too much. It was all too much. 

“I…” Daenerys cleared her throat as her voice cracked. “I wanted this more than anything. To bring a child into this world. To be a mother to a child. Not just my people.” Daenerys began, feeling the stone that rested on her chest twist and turn, the pressure still ever present. “When I lost my first child to that witch. And I was cursed to be childless, I was angry. Bitter. But then I was given my children, my dragons. I cherished them as I would a babe. My heart healing with them. And I lost them.” Daenerys swallowed down the sorrow of losing Rhaegal and Viserion. It had been nearly ten years since she lost them but it was still a gaping wound in her heart and it always would be. “I thought, I could just take care of our people. To be a mother to them. Lead us through this long Winter and see the beauty of Summer. See this land when it was not decaying and rotting from the center. But then…” Daenerys’ eyes swept over the water as if she were looking for the answer to how she had come here, to this place, to this time in her life. 

“Then you fell in love.” 

Daenerys finally turned to him, to the man that was meant to be her soulmate. The one that she should have ruled with as King and Queen. That she should have been held tightly against at night to make her nightmares go away. He was the other side of her coin. They kept each other balanced. 

“Yes.” Daenerys admitted, feeling her chin quiver as Jon placed his hand upon her shoulder and squeezed it softly. “Yes. And I promised myself I would never look back. I would only look forward. But now. How can I do that when all I hear in the dead of night are the cries of women, healthy women, young women, older woman, breaking their bodies and spirits and giving their lives for babes like me. Like you. How can I pretend that I am not terrified that I will lose everything I cherish. All because I fell in love and became weak.” 

“You are far from weak, Dani. This...love, this fear you have, does not make you weak.” 

“What does it make me then, Jon?” 

“Human.” Jon smiled softly as he brought his hand up to cup Daenerys’ cheek. “It makes you human. You’re not infallible Dani. You’re blood and bone just like the rest of us. And as much as I wish to think of us all as immortal. We are all mortal. I do not pretend to know what it is like to be a woman carrying a child, knowing that by doing so they risk their own lives. But for as many women that we lose during childbirth, we have hundreds more who live on for years and years to come. Lady Cathryn Stark had five healthy children and lived through them all. Lady Lysa Aaryn also had a son and was sound of body--if not mind--for years to come.” 

“What if…” Daenerys whispered, “What if my curse has rubbed off. What if I am not meant to have children by any means. What if…what if it is my fault. What if I lose them both? What is to come of me then, Jon? What am I to be without them, without her? How am I to be a mother to our child without her?” Daenerys bottom lip trembled as she tried valiantly to keep her tears at bay. But she had said it. She had finally voiced the fear that kept her up at night. The fear that had been eating away at her and destroying her from the inside out. 

Jon shook his head and pulled Daenerys into his arms, holding her head against his chest as she finally broke, the tears that she had been holding back for the last three moons finally coming. He wanted to promise that all would be well. But the words caught in his throat, so he just held her. Held her tight and tried to keep his own tears from falling at the nightmares Daenerys was living with. 

“Jon…? Daenerys…?” 

The two Targaryen’s both turned to look down the steep incline of the hill where Sansa stood. Her long red hair pulled back into a customary Northern braid. Her dress loose around the stomach to give her as much room as possible. Her swollen stomach visible from where the Targaryen’s peered down at her. Sansa looked up the hill to the two, her eyes swimming with concern as she noted Daenerys’ tears. 

The Northern stared daggers at the steep incline of the hill as if by doing so it would make it easier for her to make the climb up. Which, she knew she should not. So, she stared darkly at the grass and dirt of the hill, her hand resting protectively upon her stomach. Weighing the risk in her head and noting whether she was stubborn enough to go against Maesters orders and make her way up the hill to ensure Daenerys was okay. 

Drogon lifted his head finally, and turned to look down the hill at Sansa. The dragon huffing as he looked between Sansa and Daenerys. Clearly indicating something to his mother. 

“Will I be forced to climb this hill or will the two of you be coming back down sometime this century?” Sansa inquired impatiently. 

Jon smiled, despite himself, at his sister’s impatience. Daenerys not even looking to him as she disentangled herself from his arms and swiftly made her way down the incline. The Dragon Queen only had eyes for Sansa when they were near each other. 

The connection between them had changed. Jon had watched, from the sidelines, as the relationship between the two women had morphed from hidden animosity, to open hostility, to begrudging respect, to sudden friendship. He knew from Arya that the friendship wasn’t so sudden, and that it had only followed after a few lustful evenings spent in each other’s rooms. Whatever blossomed first or how, the outcome had been a beautiful love. One that Jon could only hope everyone was lucky enough to find, just perhaps find it with less turmoil than his two favorite women had. 

“What are you doing out of bed? Shouldn’t you be resting?” Daenerys inquired, her eyes roving over every inch of Sansa’s body. Her eyes landing on the swell of her stomach and how the redhead cradled it. The sight always made Daenerys heart sing with warmth, even if that warmth was chilled moments later by her ongoing fear. 

“I am well enough to take a stroll. I went looking for you, Tyrion mentioned you’d come here to see Drogon.” Sansa looked back up the hill to where Jon stood, staring down at them both with a fond smile. Drogon looking to them as well. “I hadn’t realized Jon was here as well.” The tinge to Sansa’s voice could not be helped. Even after all these years, after all she and Daenerys had been through, all they were planning together, she still worried. Worried that she would not be enough, that there was something she could never take away from Daenerys and Jon, a connection that they’d always share. The pregnancy hormones hadn’t helped with her usually well hidden jealousy. It was why she thought Jon had made himself scarce the last few weeks. At least he did so when she came into the room. She was thankful for his deference to what she wanted--but could not say without feeling ashamed.

“Yes, he just arrived.” 

Sansa raised a single brow as she met her lover’s amyst eyes. “You’ve been crying.” Sansa frowned as she brought a thumb up to wipe the remnants of a tear from Daenerys’ cheek. Her eyes narrowed back up the hill at Jon, her heckles risen, and anger quick to light and boil within her belly. Had her brother made her wife cry? “Did he say something to you?” 

“No, no darling. Why don’t we go back to the castle. I’ll fetch us some tea and we can rest.” 

“I do not need rest. I am well rested.” Sansa insisted stiffly. “Why were you crying?” Sansa refused to be moved from her spot, even as Daenerys tried to twist them to face the castle and begin their walk back to it’s halls. 

“It’s nothing, my love. I was just a bit emotional over...over something silly.” Daeenrys attempted to change the subject, to belittle away her own fears. It was one thing to speak them aloud to Jon. It was another to speak them aloud to the very woman she held the fear for. The very woman whose life she cherished above all others, who was carrying their child, whose cries were the ones that truly shook her very soul in her nightmares. 

“Something silly would not make you cry. Nor would it make you distant and seek out solace with Drogon.” Sansa stated firmly, the tone nearing accusation, but for the moment it was tinged too heavily in a plea. 

“You’re right. Of course you’re right.” Daenerys admitted with a heavy sigh. “I promise I will speak with you. But the sun is setting. We should get back to the castle. Dinner should surely be served shortly.” 

Daenerys held her breath as her wife seemed to weigh her options for a few moments. It would not surprise Daenerys if Sansa dug her heels in and insisted they talk right here at the base of the hill. Her wife could be stubborn in that way, especially when she was concerned. 

“Very well.” Sansa gave in, and Daenerys released a heavy breath as she offered her arm to her lady wife and led them back to Dragonstone castle. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was as they sat in their private chambers, the length of a rectangular table full of food between them, that Sansa brought back up their conversation from the hill. Daenerys had escaped her inquiries as when they’d returned to the castle the Queen had been whisked away by Tyrion to handle an urgent matter. 

As per the Maester’s orders Sansa had been told to take a small step back from her role as Queen. The stress of ruling a constant worry for everyone except Sansa. Sansa found being kept in the dark was much more stressful than being informed of what was going on in her Kingdom. The Seven Kingdoms she ruled with her lady wife, as equals. 

“Do you trust Jon more than me?” Sansa asked, her eyes clear and dark as she stared across the table at her wife. 

Daenerys choke on the sip of wine she had just taken, the burn of it coming back up her nose making for an embarrassing and damning sight. “What?” Daenerys wheezed, taking a sip from her water goblet instead this time, to ease the burn in her throat. 

“It is obvious that something has been troubling you. For some time now. You are gone before sunrise. You look as if you are not sleeping at all. You enconse yourself away from me, from your advisors. You’ve been distant with me. But you feel you can speak with him. Cry on his shoulder. And not mine.” Sansa swallowed down the sadness that rose at such a realization. 

“Sansa…” Daenerys tried, but Sansa continued unhindered. 

“You are my wife. My Queen. I am your wife. If you are troubled you should speak with me!” Sansa insisted, nostrils flaring as her sadness was overpowered by rising anger. “Just because I am with child I am not suddenly a different person. I am not weak. I am not incapable. I am still me.” 

Daenerys’ eyes softened, “I know you are. Of course you are you.” 

Sansa sniffled, “Then why turn to him? You know I...I try to understand your connection with him. I try. But it has been hard these last few months. When I feel as if you are pulling away from me. Have I...have I done something wrong? Is it that you do not desire me anymore?” 

Daenerys rose from her seat and made her way swiftly towards Sansa’s chair. She sat on the arm of the chair and cupped her wife’s face between both her hands and gently wiped away the tears that fell from her blue sapphire eyes. “No, never Sansa. You have done nothing wrong. I swear to you, you have done nothing wrong. I have not turned to Jon for anything.” 

  
“But…” 

“I have been having nightmares. But I do not wish to wake you. So I leave the bed as you need your rest more than I do. I have just been exhausting myself. And I should have spoken with you. I am sorry. I am truly sorry to make you think any of this. None of it is true. I desire you. I love you. I adore every single thing about you, Sansa. I am not seeking anyone else out. Not Jon. Not anyone.” Daenerys whispered as she stared into Sansa’s eyes, willing her wife to believe her. 

Sansa seemed to accept her answer, but she lost herself in her tears, burying herself into Daenerys’ chest as her arms wrapped tightly around the shorter woman. Holding her as close as she could, as awkwardly as the chair would allow them. 

“I love you, my darling. Only you. I am so terribly sorry to have brought you any undo stress. I am so sorry.” Daenerys whispered against the crown of Sansa’s red hair. Her eyes burning as she cradled Sansa’s head against her chest and breathed in her wife’s rosey scent. 

Daenerys promised herself she would do better. No matter her fears, she would do better to be honest with Sansa. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Screams echoed and bounced off the dark stone. The screech sounding almost inhuman. It screamed and yelled and called out for peace. For comfort. For an end to the pain. Screams danced off the dark stone of the walls. Screams that pricked and prodded and made the hairs on the back of Daenerys’ neck stand on end. 

“DAENERYSSSSSS” 

Daenerys shot up from her prone position at her desk, where she must have fallen asleep. The embers int he fire behind her were dying and what...what had…

“DAENERYSS!” 

Daenerys’ feet were moving before she had even registered fully that it was Sansa screaming her name. That was what had woken her. 

Daenerys threw door after door open, moving from one room to the next until she was back in her chambers. Where it was controlled chaos. There were half a dozen people filtering around the large ornate bed she shared with her wife. 

“Where is she? Where...ahhh...uuuughhhhh….where is she?” Sansa sobbed from the bed Sansa sobbed from the bed, where she was propped up against the headboard with a dozen pillows and men and women all around her. But not the one that she needed, the one that she wanted most. 

“Daenerys….Daenerys!” Sansa called out into the air, her eyes squeezed tightly closed as she groaned and arched in the bed. Her breathing labored as she tried to focus on what the midwives were telling her. The Maesters filtering in and out of her sight. The Red Priestess standing off in the corner watching, talking to the flames. And it was so much. Too many people. Too many faces. Too many people that weren’t Daenerys. 

Daenerys was frozen. As if she were in the height of her nightmare. But this time it wasn’t her mother Rhaella or even Lyanna Stark upon the birthing bed. It was her wife, her love, her Sansa. Surrounded and in pain and crying out as she struggled to bring their child into the world. Her wife, who was calling out for her. 

Someone pushed Daenerys forward, and the moment they did Sansa met her eyes. That gnawing fear that had been slowly eating Daenerys alive was reflected back to her in the terrified blue eyes of her pregnant wife. 

Seeing that fear in Sansa’s eyes seemed to cement something within Daenerys’ chest. Her own eyes becoming certain, sure, as she took confident steps forward and moved to the bed. 

“I'm here. I’m here, Sansa. I’m here.” Daenerys promised. The relief in Sansa’s eyes palatable as she reached out to her. 

The midwives helped Daenerys take up position behind Sansa, so Daenerys could help hold her, help support her. Help her push. So Daenerys could have her arms wrapped around Sansa and hold her close and keep her safe and let her know that she was doing well. Doing so so well. 

There was a certain agony a woman endured, her body tearing itself apart to bring new life into the world. There was an extreme exertion that a woman released, a primal energy they had to pull in from, to assist them push that one last time, to help them find the strength and will to bear down one last time and push. Push with all they had to help bring their children into this world. 

Words of encouragement echoed through every scream, through every fearful tear. There was reassurance and countless kisses and squeezes when it seemed the task was too much, insurmountable. Until finally the womanly screams slowly grew distant and they were fully silenced. 

The air outside was warm and the wind soft. The gulls squaked and cawed, the fishermans floated easily in their dinghies as the water was still and peaceful as Princess Alora Stark Targaryen was born. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Daenerys…!” 

“Shhh...shh...darling. I’m here. I’m here.” Daenerys whispered as Sansa shot up from the bed, eyes cloudy and uncertain for a few moments until she heard Daenerys’ voice, and felt her wife’s hand slowly, gently, sifting through her hair. 

“Ohh…” Sansa groaned, her entire body was sore, still one bit ache and constant throb, even two days later. “Where…?” Sansa asked as she looked around the room for the child. Her daughter, her girl. 

“Right here…” Daenerys whispered, swaddled in a red and grey blanket was the babe Sansa was desperately seeking. The Queen was in awe of her daughter, their daughter. Her eyes constantly swimming with tears of joy, of happiness. 

Daenerys slowly sat on the edge of the bed and passed Alora over to Sansa. Who eagerly took her daughter and they both stared down at her in awe. 

The Maesters assured her that Sansa was healthy and on the mend and their daughter was healthy. They would be watched carefully over the next moon, but for the first time in moons, there was hope. Hope. Light at the end of the tunnel of endless fear. 

As a mother, Daenerys now knew there would be endless fear. Fear of every little imaginable thing. Fear of doing wrong by her daughter, her wife, and her people. But there was also a great love. An endless love. That had faced far more than it should, but it was only ever stronger for it. 

Sansa gazed up at Daenerys, her eyes shining brightly, “She’s perfect.” 

Daenerys’ heart swelled. “You both are.” 

“Alora Stark Targaryen. House Targaryen and Stark, the First of Her Name, future Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms.” Sansa intoned with a grin, as she looked from her daughter up to her wife. “I suppose she’ll have a lifetime to accumulate more titles than her mother.” 

Daenerys' smile was brilliant. “I couldn’t agree more.” 

Alora would have a lifetime to accumulate as many titles as she wanted and she and Sansa would be there to watch over her. A family. 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :-D


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